Ginevra Weasley and the Chamber of Secrets
by nevillesremembrall
Summary: Ginny Weasley. You all know her. She was always there. But what was she thinking every time Harry walked into the room, or when he saved her from the Chamber of Secrets? This is the entire second book from her perspective!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor the storyline included in my piece. These all belong formely to Ms. Rowling. I am simply temporarily borrowing them for the purpose of community pleasure.**

**A/N: Hello to all of you readers. This is my first story so bear with me. One time, I was reading the books and I said to myself, "Harry is so oblivious to Ginny's crush on him! I wonder what's she thinking?" so this is my version.**

Chapter One

There he was.

Harry Potter.

The boy who lived.

I couldn't believe it. He was standing right in front of me. In my house.

I remember last year at the train station he had been this meek, timid boy who was almost to shy to ask my mum about platform nine and three-quarters. Nobody recognized him because his hair hid his scar. We didn't even know what he looked like.

He had black, scruffy hair and wore round scholar-type spectacles. His eyes were very green. And he was bloody thin, like he didn't eat in the summer.

And he was at the Burrow.

And I was in my night gown.

* * *

I walked into the kitchen yawning, drawn by the aroma of frying sausages. I could hear them sizzling from the other room. I was so hungry.

As I took a step in, I registered my brothers, Fred, George and Ron, my mother, bent over the frying pan, and another figure. Harry Potter.

I squealed and dashed out of the room as fast as my eleven-year-old legs would carry me, my fiery hair whipping around behind me. My heart was beating out of my chest. He. Was. Here.

I heard one of the twins explain my outburst to Harry as I traveled up the winding stairway to my room. On the bookshelves were several biographies of Harry Potter and copies of the Daily Prophet dated from 1982 all the way to 1991.

"_Voldemort Falls_", "_Harry the Hero_", "_Where is Potter_?", "_Harry Begins Hogwarts_", "_Harry Potter - the Complete Story_!" The titles of endless articles jumped off the pages stuck to the walls. Photos of the very boy currently sitting in my kitchen blinked and smiled, embarrassed by the attention.

I came out of my distracted state when I heard voices and footsteps coming towards my door. I opened the door a crack and peered out with my brown eyes. Then, he was looking at me. He was right in front of me, observing my stare. I quickly closed my door and turned scarlet as I heard my brother Ron announce, "You don't know how weird it is for her to be this shy. She never shuts up normally".

**A/N: I think that I will post again at two reviews so do not be shy. Thank you. And be brutally honest. Trust me, I want to know!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or the main storyline. These belong formely to Ms. Rowling.**

**A/N: I would like to thank fuego92 for giving me my first review. Because of you, I broke my publish at two reviews resolution and went on a three hour typing spree to create a 2, 000 word chapter. Therefore, I dedacate this entire story to you!**

The rest of the summer went by quickly, though not without embarrassment on my part.

I remember one breakfast, when Harry looked at me. Oh, his eyes were so… and I dropped the bowl containing my porridge. I quickly cleaned it up and then became unusually distracted by mum's announcement about our Hogwarts Letters.

* * *

The last time before out trip to Diagon Alley was not too bad. We were talking about school books when Harry turned to me and asked, "Oh, are you starting Hogwarts this year?"

I blushed so that I could feel my whole face heat up, as if it were afire. I nodded quickly and accidentally put my elbow into the butter bowl. Nobody noticed, thank gosh, but I still kept my face down for the rest of breakfast.

* * *

The next Wednesday we set off for Diagon Alley, as we were meeting Hermione Granger there later that very morning.

I peeked around the corner of the living room as Mum explained the physics of the Floo Network to Harry. Basically, all you have to do is get a good pinch of the fine powder and toss it onto the flames in any fireplace that's not magically disabled from Floo travel. You speak the name of the place you want to go to loud and clear as you throw the powder and step into the enchanted flames and you will automatically be transported to a fireplace in the location you spoke of.

Easy enough, eh? I stepped into the room just as Harry was leaving, and Mum took me firmly by the hand. _Apparently in this house, you're considered a helpless kid until you begin your Hogwarts education, _I thought, my internal voice ringing with a slightly sarcastic edge.

I didn't even have time to become annoyed with Mum because at that very moment, a raspy voice filled the room coughing, "D-Dia-gon Alley" and with that, Harry spun out of view.

"Oh. Oh dear me. I do hope he's alright…" Mum quickly nudged Ron so that he almost fell into the flames. "Ron! Go after Harry and _make sure he's there"._

"He'd bloody well better be because if he's not, he could be anywhere." Ron mumbled as he clearly hollered, "DIAGON ALLEY!"

Next went Dad, and then me, as Mum insisted that I have an adult on either side of me. I didn't even notice how she was babying me because all I could do was worry for Harry.

If you say the name of the location that you want to arrive at while stuttering, sneezing, coughing or anything else that could muddle your words, the Floo Network will become slightly confused and send you to a random area. If Harry wasn't in Diagon Alley, he could be anywhere in the entire world, though it was likely that he was somewhere in London.

I tumbled into a spotless fireplace in Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions. Dad was just exiting the shop and I dashed after him. Ron was frantically yelling at the twins.

"YOU RUDDY IDIOTS! Harry was _your_ responsibility! HE MUST'VE BEEN HERE YOU JUST MISSED HIM!" Ronald Weasley's face was as red as his hair and he was gasping for breath after yelling with such a vigour.

Mum was weeping silently and Dad was scratching his head frantically. The twins were simultaneously running in circles and Ron continued to yell at them. Percy, who had arrived just after Mum, was calmly and politely asking random shoppers if they had seen a boy with black hair, round spectacles, green eyes and Muggle attire wandering by. He carefully avoided telling them it was Harry Potter.

I, on the other hand, simply stood there, befuddled. "_Blimey!_" I thought to myself, "_We lost Harry Potter!_"

* * *

"Harry, Harry! Over here!"

I heard Hermione Granger's holler from down the street. Mum quickly and firmly took hold of my hand and set off at a trot, with Fred, George, Ron, Percy and Dad running full-tilt just ahead of us.

"Oh Harry - oh, my dear - you could have been anywhere". We all knew of the truth in my mothers words.

I was so overjoyed that we had found him that I completely ignored the conversation going on between Dad and Harry. I didn't realise until many years later, but it probably would have been in my best interest to hear of the suspicious behaviour of the Malfoy's.

We briskly set off down the streets, making up for lost time. I browsed through all the slimy potion ingredients in Slug & Jigger's Apothecary. It was all so strange. While one section sold lovely things, such as Unicorn horns and lavender oil, the windows had eels eyes, bat spleen, armadillo bile and preserved cockroaches.

We also purchased cauldrons, robes, parchment, quills and - to my excitement - my wand. After staring at me for a while, Mr. Ollivander concluded that I would do well to have a wand of Holly, 8.5 inches with a core of a Unicorn tale. He was correct, of course.

Our final stop was Florrish & Blotts. We could hardly get in for the crowds. Mostly witches, as I quickly noticed. I saw a flash of light and a loud, important voice holler, "Look here Mr. Lockhart sir. Yes, that's the way! Good shot, well done. Very photogenic you are sir!"

Gilderoy Lockhart.

That was a name that you heard every day, if you were a Weasley. He was an author, a good one too. Claims he's defeated banshee's and trolls, and even set vampires strait. Winner of Witches Weekly best smile award four times in a row now, and was he ever arrogant. But Mum, she thought him amazing, simply dazzling, "and quite a clever bloke" in her words.

We picked up all our books - mostly his, as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was using them - and pushed to the front to get them signed. A waste, if you ask me. So there we were, holding onto six sets of his complete collection - if you count Harry - and when he looks up and smiles, who does he notice?

"It can't be _Harry Potter_!" He announced as he leaped to his feet, golden hair swished around him like in a Muggle advertisement. With a lunge, the celebrity took Harry's hand and yanked him to the front.

I was blindly pulled towards the front by Mum as we watched Harry uncomfortably try to escape Lockhart's embrace. Cameras flashed all around us, reflecting on Lockhart's magically bleached teeth.

"Young Harry here stepped into the shop to purchase my autobiography, Magical Me - which I will now present to him, free of all charge. He did not realise that I would also give him my _entire_ collection, also free of charge! Harry, together you and I will make the headline!" Gilderoy looked so utterly pleased with himself that I turned away.

"Thank you, thank you," he acknowledged the crowds, "and now I have a rather joyous announcement. I am _very _pleased to announce that I will be taking over the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

It took several minutes for the cheering to subside. Apparently, many of the star struck witches couldn't wait for Gilderoy Lockhart to teach their young everything he knew. All this announcement did was frustrate Harry as it gave Lockhart another reason to hold him captive, right in the centre of attention.

When Harry finally slipped away, he looked quite distraught. I stood next to my new cauldron and peered up at him. He almost looked angry, though I couldn't figure out why.

"Here," he mumbled, tipping his new books into my cauldron, "you can have these, I'll buy my own." He shuffled away only to be cut off by none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Bet you just _loved _that. Hmph, famous Potter can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

"Leave him alone! He didn't want all that!" It was the first time that Harry had heard my voice and he looked at me, a little surprised. I grimaced, looking up at Draco's sneering face.

"Potter! You've got yourself a little _girlfriend!" _I was on the verge of tears, not because of what he said, but because of the way he said it. I turned red in my flustered embarrassment.

But we weren't alone for long, as Hermione and Ron were walking through the crowd to get to us. "I'm surprised to see you Weasley's in a shop. Aren't your parents going to go hungry for a month to pay for these?"

"Ron! Ginny! Harry! Hermione! Let's go, it's too crowded in here." Dad was making his way towards us, and getting some heck from Fred and George. They weren't hard to pick out from the crowd. Their red Weasley hair separated them from most people.

"Well, well, well - Arthur Weasley" A tall, thin man whose striking silver hair was identical to Draco's was leaning against a long pillar that ran down the side of the shop. It was clear that this was the elder Malfoy.

"Lucius". Dad replied coldly. I could tell by the name and Dad's reaction that this was the man from work that he was always complaining about. He claimed that he and his family strutted about, happy to be a completely pure-blood family thinking Muggle-born witches and wizards were scum and those who associated with them or Muggles themselves were blood-traitors. That, what with Dad's Muggle addiction and our association with the Grangers, who were Muggles, made us some of the worst "blood-traitors" of our time.

"Busy time for the Ministry I hear. Are they paying you over-time then?" the bone-chillingly slick voice of Mr. Malfoy crept up my spine as he neared me. I watched as he extended a pale arm from under his dark wizards robes. The abnormally long fingers that belonged to said arm gracefully reached out and snatched my second-hand transfiguration textbook.

"Obviously not" he sneered, triggering my father's embarrassed flush. I watched as Dad clenched and unclenched his hands several times before overcoming his quite reasonable anger.

"Well Weasley, I thought that you and your family were terrible blood-traitors already. . ."his cruel eyes flickered briefly to the utterly oblivious Granger's. His lip curled as he slowly pronounced each syllable of his sentence with a quiet, condescending tone. ". . .but based on the company you keep I was clearly mistaken. And I thought you could sink no lower." His eyebrows lowered as he spoke his last, malicious word.

I didn't even see Dad jump. All I remember is shivering at the unkind statement that left the thin, pallid mouth, and then, watching my offended father attempt to punch the very same mouth.

In the background I could hear Fred and George cheering on our father, Mum yelling at him to stop, one of the shopkeepers trying to break it up, and I could've sworn I could hear Lockhart yelling at a reporter to work this into the article.

At last, after several minutes of weak fighting, Hagrid - of all people - walked in. In case you don't know, Hagrid is twice as tall as a normal man and at least three times as wide. Naturally he turned some heads upon his entrance into the crowed bookstore.

"'Scuse me there Harry, Ron. Arthur, what in the name o' . . ." he didn't finish his sentence because he chose that moment to step in and literally pull Dad and Mr. Malfoy apart.

When he was back on the ground, Mr. Malfoy rubbed his eye, which had apparently be whacked with the textbook he had stolen from me. The same one he held in his hand.

"Here girl, take your worthless textbook. It's the best your father can give you."

The book hit the bottom of the pewter cauldron with a muffled thump. He centered one last glare at the me - the girl with the firey hair that matched that of the frowning man beside me - before arrogantly commanding, "Come Draco!" and disappearing out of the doorway with a dramatic sweep of his expensive, "upper-class" robes.

**A/N: Thank you for reading! I really hope that I move from one review a chapter (again, thank you fuego92) to at least two. Thank you soooooo much. I am also going to the Toronto Science Centre Harry Potter exibit tomorrow so hopefully I will get some inspiration!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. I wish I did, but if I did I wouldn't be on a fanfiction website, not would I?**

**A/N: I had a great time at the Harry Potter Exhibition. It was insaine. Super-Mega-Foxy-Awesome-Hot! Thanks! I'm up to five reviews. Hope you like this chapter. (PLEASE VOTE ON MY POLL!)**

The walk back to Madam Malkin's fireplace was a silent one, as we were all still shaken from our intense encounter with the Malfoy's

When we arrived at home, I took my new books and dashed up to my room, holding back the angry tears that swam in my eyes. As I stumbled on the top step, I saw Harry's concerned stare before I briskly shut the door.

My shoulders shook with embarrassed tears, silently running down my hot, blushing face. I clutched the book Mr. Malfoy had stolen from me in my hands and was about to throw it at the wall when I noticed something utterly strange about it.

Inside it, a smaller book was tucked. As I pulled it out, I discovered that it was a diary of sorts. As I flipped open the cover, I noticed that a name was scribbled in pale, fading ink. _T. M. Riddle. _

That confirmed that it was a diary. My curiosity got the better of me and I flipped to the next, yellowed page. But there was nothing on it.

I ignored the eerie feeling I'd had since reading the name and took out my new quill. _As long as it is a diary, I might as well take it for my own_. I had many feelings to vent, anyways, so with that final though running through my head I dipped the feathered quill in a little bottle and touched the page. In royal blue ink, I wrote my first passage:

_Today we went to Diagon Alley. When we were there, Draco Malfoy's father began to insult us. I can't believe how cruel he was. He's the man from work Dad always talks about. He even insulted the Granger's. Dad couldn't help punching him, he deserved it. Hagrid, the Hogwarts Grounds Keeper ended up separating them. Oh, Mum was angry. Mr. Malfoy had stolen my transfiguration textbook beforehand, provoking Dad when he commented on the state of our financial affairs and when I arrived home, I found this diary in it. Strange. I wonder how it got here. . ._

When I was finished my passage, I set the book beside me to dry. As I watched it, the ink soaked into the pages, my blue writing dissolving before my eyes. If that didn't shock me, more writing appeared, this in a neat, black script I didn't recognize.

_What a pitiful tale. I do sympathize greatly. The Malfoy's seem to be quite arrogant. I do feel awful for your father, having to work with that man. You're family has a lot of courage to befriend Muggles. I am not judging you, dear one, simply telling of your bravery. There are many, like the Malfoy's that would act the same, if not worse than he. I admire your loyalty. My name is Tom Riddle. What's yours?_

As I read the words, I got over my initial shock. This . . . _Diary _was so kind. He told me many of the things that I had needed to hear to forget of my anger and sorrow.

_Ginny. Ginny Weasley._

_Hello Tom. Thank you for telling me that. It helped me greatly. It's nice to talk to someone. I am sceptical as to your responsiveness. Are you not a Diary?_

I know that I should have been more suspicious than I was, but I was feeling vulnerable and _Tom_ was so comforting.

_Ginny. A pretty name that is. And to answer your question, yes, I am a Diary. Are you not a Witch?_

"Ginny! Dear, it's time for dinner." my Mum's loud voice boomed through the closed door. I quickly shut the Diary as I rushed down the stairs, hungrier than I had realised.

* * *

The next day was very busy indeed. Everyone was running about, packing their things and loading them into the grand Crown Victoria Car that Dad had charmed. With It's new abilities, the small old fashioned vehicle could fit Mum, Dad, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, Harry and me.

As we neared the end of the driveway, I suddenly went cold. "Stop! Dad, I've forgotten my Diary! Stop!"

In a flurry of movement and a swish of red hair, I climbed out of the car and made a dash to the house. I flew up the stairs - almost literally too - and grabbed the small, black, leather-bound book and made it back to the car in record time.

I clutched it tightly as I squeezed in beside Mum, ignoring Ron's curious glance. I held it against my stomach, wrapping my arms around it in such a way that the tiny Diary was not visible to wandering eyes.

The ride seemed longer than it had last time, when I'd arrived to see my brothers off. That, was the first time I'd ever seen Harry Potter. He and Ron laughed about something insignificant.

Fred and George had their heads bent together, most likely discussing things Mum and Percy would disapprove of. Every once and a while, one of them would stick their head out of the huddle to check for eavesdroppers. Looking back on that day now, I realise how ironic that statement is, as they were inventing a practical joke product that would assist eavesdroppers.

Percy was fixing his hair and adjusting his _Prefect_ badge. Mum was admiring the car, oblivious to the fact that it's impressiveness was the work of Dad's wand, the very same was pointed at the steering wheel, driving the car.

When we arrived at King's Cross Station, we caused quite a stir. There were eight of us, and six of the eight were unloading a trunk or two out of the boot of the car and placing it upon one of three trolley's. Harry and Ron shared a trolley, as did Fred and George and my little trunk was loaded along side Percy's.

If that was not a sight, Ron's rat Scabbers was squealing at a surprising rate, scuttling about, trying to escape Ron's cupped hands. This provoked an exited Hedwig even further, alarming some the Muggles, who considered a hooting snowy owl at a train station to be quite unusual.

When we were finally ready, I was more nervous than I had been all summer. I was going to Hogwarts and I was under a lot of pressure to get into Gryffindor. If I was announced a Gryffindor, that would make me the newest of nine Weasley's to be sorted into that house.

If I wasn't already agitated by the tremendous pressure that Gryffindor house put me under, Mum quickly glanced at the clock, a slight frown on her face. We only had _five_ minutes to get through the barrier.

"Alright then, Percy first!" Mum hollered as we lined up. Percy set off at a sort of trot and made it through the barrier with ease, the trolley with our luggage disappearing with him.

"Ready? Good then! Behind us boys." she nodded to Ron and Harry and grasped my hand. I watched Fred and George push their trolley through first, and grin as they ran into the wall side-by-side.

I closed my eyes as Mum literally dragged me along behind her. We slid through the brick wall and arrived on the platform.

It was so much more amazing than I could remember. I guess it's just one of those things that you have to see to truly recall it's greatness. The red steam engine train stood to my left. It bore the name _Hogwarts Express_. All around me, kids were running to get on the train, parents were crying and hugging their children before sending them off, first years looked just as amazed as me and Muggle parent caught their breath at the whole platform.

I thought I even saw a toad hop by, but I was distracted Mum pulling me into a rough hug. As she did this, a noticed a wet substance on my forehead. I realised that Mum was crying. I cried back and threw my arms around the woman who had raised me.

She broke away and nudged me towards the train. I boarded and looked for a compartment to sit in. I glanced in every one, only to find that they were occupied by laughing students and groups that were already so obviously exclusive.

I checked around for Ron and Harry, intending to avoid my shyness and sit with them but they weren't on the train. _Hey _I thought to myself, _Come to think of it, I didn't see them enter the platform. I hope they're alright . . ._

My thought was interrupted by the same toad that I'd seen outside of the train landing on my foot. I shook it off with a yelp. I hated toads. They were green, and slimy, and icky. I shuddered. My hair was swept to the side as a boy ran past, creating a gust.

"TREVOR! TREVOR, COME _BACK_" From what I could tell, as he was running fairly fast, he was just taller than me, and was mildly chubby.

I glanced in the direction he had come from and recognized Hermione Granger running after him, her bushy, brown hair streaming behind her.

"NEVILLE!" she yelled, running in his wake, "Come back Neville! You'll find Trevor. Where was he last time? _Wait, _NEVILLE!"

She didn't notice me when she ran by. I didn't bother following her, as I suspected that she was quite busy. So without another though about the boy named Neville, I resumed my search for a compartment.

I found an empty one down near the back of car four. I sat down and pulled out my Diary.

_Hello Tom,_

_I am on the Hogwarts Express now. I feel so lonesome. I am in a compartment by myself because I do not have any friends. I can't sit with Percy because he is with the Prefects and I can't sit with Ron and Harry because they aren't on the train, as far as I know. I simply CANNOT sit with Fred and George because they'll tease me ruthlessly about Harry Potter. Yes, the very same whose name was alongside Ron's. I AM glad that I have you to talk to._

I finished the entry and watched the ink soak into the pages, along with one of my tears. I remembered the part of the summer before Harry came.

"_**You met Harry Potter! Oh Ron, You've got to introduce me next year!" I said.**_

"_**Oo! Looks like Ginny's got a little crush!" Fred laughed.**_

"_**Yes, yes - oh Harry! How wonderful you are! Truly amazing! THE BOY WHO LIIIIIVVEDDD!" George SMIRKED**_

"_**I DO NOT. I am simply impressed and want to meet Ron's fist friend!" **_

"_**It's alright. These feelings are perfectly normal." Percy tilted his head down to meet her eyes.**_

"_**GINNY AND HARRY, CASTING SOME SPELLS! LA LA LA LA LA, SHE LIKES HIM SO WELL!" Fred and George teased as I ran away, crying.**_

I put my hand onto the heart of the book and cried, letting the memory take over my whole mind.

_Ginny,_

_I don't think you knew that you can insert a memory into me that way. I do feel terrible for you. In a way, you are not alone now, you are with me. Fred and George, your brothers, I presume, are only joking. What they think is funny, you may not. They mean you no harm. However, they are being insensitive! I do hope things improve for you._

I set the Diary away gently and pulled out _Vacation with Vampires_ by Gilderoy Lockhart. It was the only book that I hadn't read yet and I felt the need to do just that.

* * *

As I exited the train, I heard a booming voice sound above the crowd, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here with me!"

I looked up to see Hagrid, the very man that had broken up the fight between my father and Mr. Malfoy holding a lantern and looking down at the crowd of eleven year-olds who were shivering in the presence of this intimidating man.

We all boarded boats, four to a boat. I looked around to observe the faces: there was a girl with long silver hair and a distant expression, a young boy who was abnormally short, holding a Muggle camera and a freckled boy with matted blonde hair.

"Heads down!" Hagrids voice came out of the black night and we all ducked, except for the blonde boy. He let out a loud yelp like thing and crumpled to the bottom of the boat.

"Oh dear . . " the girl with silver hair spoke. Her voice drawled on like she was sleepy. It was smooth and lulling and very, very unusual. She toyed with her bottle cap necklace and batted her eyes as she yelled, "Hagrid is it? One of the boys in our boat didn't duck. I believe that he has fainted."

"Yes, yes. We'll have him brought to the infirmary when we get in."

The rest of the ride was a little worrying, as we felt bad for the unknown boy. However, all of our concerns were lost when we caught sight of the castle.

It was so majestic. I caught my breath when I saw it from across the lake. It was large and pale, it's old bricks casting a glowing reflection on the water below. The dark outline of Hogwarts was dotted with hundreds of tiny windows, each glowing with light. Slick silver fish jumped out of the water beside our boat.

As we glided over a patch of seaweed, I could have sworn that I saw a person under the water, but when I looked again, I only saw a tail darting between the flowing grasses.

When we finally arrived at the castle, we were all shaking with anxiety, our black robes blending together as we huddled together. Our heads turned every which way as Hagrid opened the doors of the castle and we were nudged into a giant hall. The ceiling was the five times as tall as I was and the room was even wider.

"Firs' years fer ye Professor McGonagall." he spoke to an elderly lady with flowing emerald robes and rectangular glasses. Her eyes were sharp, green and remarkably cat-like. Her nose was large and angular and she had a pointed chin that was turned up with dignity. It was clear that she was in a position of authority.

"Yes, thank you Hagrid." she nodded politely. "Welcome, young students, to Hogwarts castle. What you are about to experience will be some of the most magical years of your life. Seven, to be exact. Now, during your time here, you will belong to a house. There are four Hogwarts houses, and you will be sorted into one in just a few moments.

"Each house represents one Hogwarts founder, as each one specified the type of student they want in their House. For example, if you are Muggle-born, you will not be accepted into Slytherin, Your house is a sort of family. Your good actions will gain you points while your bad behaviour shall lose you points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points shall win the House Cup, a great honour."

She looked behind her and claped her hands together. "Now, they are ready for us. Let the Sorting begin!"

My stomach did a flip as we all formed a line. I was behind the boy with the camera. He was taking pictures of everything. I leaned out to watch as they opened the grand double-doors that led to the Great Hall and we began our procession towards the legendary Sorting Ceremony.

**A/N: I hope you liked the chapter. Now I feel the need to repeat myself! VOTE ON MY POLL! It is vital to the state of this story! I hope that you read all my A/N's because some, like this, WILL carry important info. THIS STORY MAY UNDERGO A NAME CHANGE. I _am _changing the name of this story to _Ginevra Weasley and the Chamber of Secrets_. However, I do not know when. If this happens DO NOT BE ALARMED!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I think I've made it clear I don't own Harry Potter.**

**A/N: Thanks to all of you who voted on my poll. Unfortunately, you must think it's funny to vote in such a way that there is one vote on each option, because that's what happened. So you're going to have to tell your friends about me because Ginny petrifies Mrs. Norris on Halloween.**

The Great Hall was huge. Even though Ron had told me it was enormous, I hadn't imagined this.

There were four long tables lined up length-wise across the room. At the very front of the room was another one of these tables, facing the other four. That, was the teachers table.

In the very centre of that table was the very famous, the very amazing, Albus Dumbledore. His silver beard glowed faintly by the light of the torches magically suspended from the ceiling. His eyes were twinkling with happiness. The blue colour of them matched the optimistic shade of his oceanic robes.

The ceiling was quite a sight as well. It was dark blue and grey and swirling, as it mimicked the sky outside. I looked up at it and recalled what Hermione Granger had said about it this summer:

"**Oh, you'll love it Ginny! It's lovely, simply amazing. Especially the ceiling of the Great Hall!" Hermione's eyes lit up as she recalled her first year at Hogwarts.**

**"What's so great about it?" I took a couple of steps towards the girl standing in my living room.**

**"The ceiling is enchanted to look like the sky outside. For example, if it's storming, you will see the lightning and rain, but it isn't real."**

I hadn't expected it to be this . . . Stunning. Yes, that's the word. Stunning.

All around, I could hear gasps of amazement coming from the other first years. They looked up at the ceiling and around at the hundreds of students who were staring at us like we were zoo animals. I suppose I shouldn't know that word, but Dad had just learned it that summer. Those students were the source of the constant, low buzz.

The Headmaster Dumbledore stood up and spread his arms. Instantly, the Hall fell silent. All of the students held great respect for this man.

"Welcome, my students, to another grand year at Hogwarts. However, I shall hold off my speech until we are all seated. Therefore, it is time for the Sorting. Professor McGonagall, you may bring forth the Hat."

The woman who had welcomed us when we had first entered Hogwarts walked briskly to the front of the room. In her hands, she bore a scruffy old hat. It was a wizards hat, like any other. However, it's point was crooked with age and it was so dirty that if it had had arms, I could have mistaken it for a gnome.

She sat it upon a polished stool and stood back. The students at the tables looked at it expectantly. Even the Professors leaned forward in their grand chairs, conversations stopped, mid-sentence.

Suddenly, it did something that you shouldn't be surprised at, considering the circumstances, including Diagon Alley and the school itself. It opened its mouth (if you could call the flap of fabric a mouth) and sang:

_"Sitting upon this stool, dirty I may be_

_Just a hat, that I am, as far as you can see._

_But trust me, I am so much more, for now I decree_

_The four founders of this school specially created me._

_I can see into your mind, judge your hearts intent_

_As I did with the others when I decided where the went._

_I choose your House so that you may be similar with friends_

_And it is my hope that by my choosing you'll have some 'till your end._

_Now, these Founders, as I told you, well, there were four_

_And by the end of their creation one walked out the door._

_However before they separated, each specified out loud_

_The traits their students would require to make their House proud._

_Now, if I name you Gryffindor, you must be brave and true_

_For that he was and if you are, his spirit is with you._

_But perhaps you are a Hufflepuff, and you are kind and just_

_For that, as she so clearly announced, if an absolute must._

_Maybe I'll name you Ravenclaw, for you are sharp of mind_

_Like your Founder, your intellect leaves others behind._

_Or, you'll be a Slytherin, where they're full of cunning, and of wit_

_Unfortunately, only pure-blood witches and wizards he agreed to admit._

_Now, that you've heard my song and everything's explained_

_I've only one more verse before your House is named._

_Be brave, be kind, be clever, as all the Houses are_

_But it is only by working together as one, will any of the four get far."_

The entire Hall clapped and cheered and then fell silent as Professor McGonagall then took a scroll from out of her sleeve and began reciting names:

"Abberton, Jeremy" An scared little boy with black hair slipped out of the line to sit upon a stool that the Sorting had previously been resting on. The Hat was now upon his head.

It wiggled around a bit - the Hat - before straightening itself up and loudly proclaiming, "Slytherin!"

Jeremy launched himself out of the chair and went to sit beside a boy with a brooding expression and matching hair. I assumed it was his brother.

Many more Sortings took place.

"Brattons, Georgia" went to Ravenclaw.

"Brown, Zoë" went to Slytherin.

"Diddle, Evalin" went to Hufflepuff.

"Hornry, Maud" went to Slytherin.

"MacDougal, Eric" and "MacDougal Erica" both went to Gryffindor.

"McInnis, Elise!"

A thin, meek looking girl with frizzy, dirty blonde hair and a face full of light brown freckles stepped forward. She sat on the chair and shook in her uniform. Her hazel eyes darted back and forth from each of the four tables, wondering which one she would be sent to.

"Hufflepuff!" shouted the Hat, as soon as it had been placed upon her head. She smiled slightly and slipped off the stool that she had been placed upon and went to join a table of happy looking students.

However, before she got there, she stumbled on a step and went sprawling across the floor. This wouldn't have been important except that at that moment, I looked up and noticed that one of the teachers chairs was vacant.

As I began to wonder why a professor would be absent, the double doors that connected the Great Hall to the rest of the school flew open. I thought I saw a flash of red hair behind the doors, but I must have been mistaken.

Marching up the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables was a tall, black haired man. His robes were dark black and that was the only colour he wore. Even his eyes were black. His nose was long, not in the way Professor McGonagall's was, but in a really _abnormally _long sort of way. His expression was fit to kill.

Many of the students, excluding the first years and the Slytherin's, shot this man dirty looks. I peeked out of the line and saw Fred and George making faces behind his back.

He marched right up to Professor Dumbledore's table and spoke with him in a hushed tone. Creases formed on the Headmasters forehead as the man continued to speak. Eventually, they called Professor McGonagall over and spoke with her for a moment.

A few minutes later, the man and Professor McGonagall hurried off. Professor Dumbledore stood in front of his table and addressed the room.

"It is unfortunate that I must leave temporarily. I shall return, though. However, for the time being I would like to ask Professor Kettleburn, would you please resume the Sorting until we return or until you reach the end?" he smiled and waited for a nod before walking off.

An lady with short, sandy brown hair picked up the scroll that Professor McGonagall had left behind and continued to call names. I squirmed a little as se did. I was ever so anxious.

"Weasley, Ginny!"

My heart stopped beating. No, it really did. I blinked twice before slowly creeping towards the front. I felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. I could feel the stares of everyone in the room as I sat down on the stool and felt the hat drop over my tiny head.

"Well. Could it be? _Another _Weasley?" a small voice in my ear seemed to be almost talking to itself.

"This makes it easy then. I hereby announce you the ninth in your family to be . . . GRYFFINDOR!"

I stumbled over my own feet as I flitted over to the Gryffindor table and sat beside Percy, who said, "Well done there Ginny, well done. You make us proud little sister!"

I blushed deeply and waited for Professor Kettleburn to speak the final name.

"Zorgin, Peter" who was announced a Slytherin.

Just as he sat down, Dumbledore strode back into the room with the man in tow. He stood behind his table and made his speech:

"Another year is upon us. Another year is a cause of celebration. Let us work hard and be the best that we can be. Let us live up to our Houses and work with our friends. Let us enjoy our classes and assist our peers. Let us feast!"

As soon as he spoke those last words, the bare plates on the tables were filled with turkey, chicken, beef, ribs, mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, stuffed squash and many other delicious things.

I filled my plate, but I'm never very hungry. I only ate half as much as the little girl across from me. I remembered from the Sorting that she was named Erica. She was laughing with her brother and I felt so isolated. I looked down at my plate, lonely, just in time to see all the foods disappear and watch the desserts materialize.

When we were finished, Percy led us toward the doors. We wound through several hallways and up six flights of stairs. We crossed them just in time to see the last set swoop around and reposition itself a quarter turn from our current position.

"Wattlebird" spoke my brother to a picture. Though there were pictures and portraits of sorts everywhere in the castle, this one was different. It was bigger, and the fat lady in the frame seemed to be paying attention to us, for when those ridiculous words left my brothers mouth, she swung inwards, revealing a hidden door.

We were in the Gryffindor common room. It was decorated in maroon and gold - the Gryffindor colours. There was a large, roaring fireplace and several big, cushy armchairs. Shadows danced on the walls, moving in sync with the yawning students.

I went with three other first year girls to a dormitory with the sign First Years on it. Of course, it was in the girls wings, up the flight of stairs to the left.

I picked the bed closest to the window. We all shoved our trunks to the foot of our beds and began unpacking. I put up pictures of my family and set my Diary on the bedside table, along with my quills and my ink.

I sat up in the dark for a while, thinking back on the lonely train ride and sighed. It was going to be a long year.

_Good night Tom._

_Good night Ginny._

**A/N: I really think that you should press that button. Yep, that one, down there. . . ooo, it's shiny. So press it! (no, seriously, PLEASE review)!**


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own anything

**A/N: Hey guys. You haven't been reviewing... Im SAAAAAAD. No, kidding. Anyway, I kinda like the end of this chapter.**

I woke up the next morning, expecting to see the pale green walls of my bedroom. It took me a minute, after I opened my eyes, to register where I was.

I was at Hogwarts. I smiled.

I had no friends. The smile faded.

The other girls were asleep still. I looked at the clock and was shocked to see that it read 6:23 am. I didn't have to get up until at least 7:30.

I sighed. I usually woke up early at the Burrow anyways because Ron snores unnaturally loud and Fred and George are morning people. And they're _Fred and George_.

I went into the bathroom and took a quick shower, brushed my teeth and donned my robes. I frowned as I looked in the mirror and observed my reflection.

My hair was dripping slightly and it's fiery colour would make me an excellent target for the Slytherin's, as they all knew of the "blood-traitor", Muggle loving Weasley's. My black school robes were torn on the left sleeve as Mum had purchased them from a second-hand shop. My hat was crooked as well, as it too was second-hand. My shoes were again, second-hand and they were clunkier than all of the other shiny school shoes that belonged to the other, richer girls.

Knowing I had plenty of time, I pulled out Tom's Diary:

_Oh Tom, I can't take it! Hogwarts is such a grand old school and I'm simply a disgrace. My robes are slightly torn. It simply _isn't _fair! Percy got new robes because he's a Prefect and Bill and Charlie had new robes when they went to Hogwarts because they were Head Boy and Quiddich Captain! Fred and George have second-hand stuff, but they flaunt it like it's something to be proud of. And Ron, he gets the family rat. And he's friends with Harry Potter! It's not fair. None of the other girls have second-hand robes, or books. The only new things I have are my Lockhart books because Harry gave them to me. It simply is not fair. I don't even have a friend to vent too. Not that we aren't friends, Tom dear, but I mean like a _real _person, if not a girl._

I was panting by the time I finished the entry. As I wrote, I muttered all of the angry words under my breath. I held my quill with such a tight intensity that it's a wonder that it didn't snap on the page.

_Ginny, you mustn't fret. It is only the first day. You should make friends in class. Even if you don't, who needs them. Most people are unreliable. You are better without them…_

I was shocked. Tom had never been like this. Somehow, his words slipped into my brain. _He's right_, I thought with a growl, _No one even bothered to invite me into their group on the train…_

As I thought about this, more writing appeared on the page:

_Now, tell me more of this Harry Potter._

I wasn't even the slightest bit suspicious as my quill touched the paper.

* * *

I walked into the Great Hall for breakfast and sat at the end of the Gryffindor table. I had no one to sit with, although it was hardly noticeable as there were only some twenty students in the Hall at that time.

The food that was offered could easily match that of Mum's. Perhaps it was even better. While Mum was a talented cook, she had limits.

Before me was a glorious array of breakfast appropriate foods. There were hash browns, fried eggs, boiled eggs, scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, porridge, seventeen different jams, pancakes, waffles, five different syrups, strawberries, bananas, plums, peaches, grapes and French toast.

I loaded my plate to the edges. I was just finishing my pancakes and strawberry syrups when Harry, Ron and Hermione walked in, the latter clearly displeased with the boys.

This morning, as I was walking to the Great Hall, I heard the explanation, or at least, a rumour, as to why Harry and Ron hadn't been on the train. For some reason, they had been unable to get through the barrier that leads into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. When they realised the train had left without them, they went to Dad's Ford Angelina. Funny enough, it had some _new_ abilities besides being enlarged.

They had flown the car to school. Much to their luck, it's invisibility booster was faulty. Two Muggles saw them fly away. When they had arrived at the school, they crashed into the Whomping Willow. Like it's name, it is quite destructive. Not only did it injure itself, but it succeeded in scaring off the car and breaking my brother's wand.

After arriving at school, they were caught by none other than Severus Snape, the Potions Professor (otherwise known as the man who had spoken to Dumbledore last night). They now had two weeks of detention each and were the talk of the school. But I couldn't be sure if it was true.

I watched as Ron sulkily sat down, ignoring what appeared to be a lecture from Hermione. After a while, she went back to reading her book. Harry seemed to be unusually interested in his toast. They were all too preoccupied to see me so I just went on eating.

I watched as Neville Longbottom, another second year, sat down across from the trio just as the post arrived. They all looked up, with the exception of the preoccupied Hermione, a look of fear plastered across Ron's face.

To my horror, I saw Errol, the family owl, carrying a large, red letter. _Oh dear. Poor Ron_. I thought as I finished my breakfast quickly, not wanting to be there for the display.

Just as I took my last bite of toast, I saw Neville lean across the table and say something to Ron, his expression knowing and fearful. Harry simply looked confused as Neville proceeded to cover his ears.

I knew what was coming and I rushed to exit the room before-

"—**STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET A HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT GONE—"**

I ran out of the hall as quickly as I could, my mothers furious voice ringing in my head.

I saw many bemused students looking at me. I would bet all the Galleons in Gringotts that they were thinking about the Howler. As I neared Gryffindor Tower, a heard a voice behind me.

"Ah, Miss Weasley, perfect. I didn't get a chance to speak to you at breakfast. I have your timetable here." McGonagall then handed me a piece of paper with classes written all over it. As I was studying it, she took her leave and briskly walked in the direction of the Transfiguration classroom.

As I read the timetable, I saw that I had Herbology with the Slytherin's. I realised with a start that it began in twenty minutes, with a ten minute walk to the greenhouses.

I made it back to the common room in time to pick up my books. I walked to class just behind the MacDougal twins. They had their heads bent together. The way they conversed, they reminded me a bit of Fred and George. Erica MacDougal looked at me and smiled, then resuming her conversation..

When I arrived at the greenhouse, I saw a short, happy witch standing outside of the door. She was clearly Professor Sprout, the Herbology professor.

"Right then," she said cheerfully, brushing some soil off of her robes, "I do suppose that's everyone. So we are the Gryffindor's and the Slytherin's right? Then off we go, follow me."

We entered the cozy greenhouse single file. I felt something shove against me and looked up to see a smirking Slytherin glancing down at my books. We stood to face Professor Sprout, who was watching us, an expression of pure excitement upon her chubby face.

"While you are only first years, I'm afraid that we are limited to mainly lectures of sorts. However, we will be covering a rather exciting one today. Who's heard of the Devil's Snare?"

Had I ever. Ron had come home, talking about You-Know-Who, a giant chess set and the Devil's Snare. I didn't have to read my textbook to know of it. So I tentatively put up my hand.

"The Devil's Snare. That's a large plant that will coil it's vines around you. The more you struggle the tighter it binds?" It came out sounding like a question. I, of course, hadn't meant it to sound so…meek.

"Um, the only way to save yourself is to, er, stop struggling and hope it drops you or…light a fire. They hate light." The other students looked at me approvingly and I knew from the beaming expression on Professor Sprout's face that I was correct.

"Aha! Yes, well done Miss…Weasley is it. Yes, I remember your brothers. Good then . Ten points to Gryffindor for well placed knowledge and enthusiasm to answer a question. Here's a good way to remember; _Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare. It's deadly fun, but will sulk in the sun!_"

She spoke to us more about it's properties and the places one may encounter it. She sent us to tables that she conjured for us, telling us to take detailed notes, as this was an important plant and a very large part of the curriculum.

I sat across from the boy who had had the Muggle camera on the boat ride over. I vaguely remembered him being put into Gryffindor. I was surprised to see that he still had the camera with him and was currently taking photos of some irritated Slytherin's.

He had sandy hair that almost drooped into his blue eyes. There were a few freckles on his nose, but that was all I noticed. I observed quickly that he was muggle-born. It was clear from the way that he took pictures and how excited and confused he appeared as he took everything about the greenhouse in.

"Hi. I'm Colin Creevy. Nice to meet you. Your name is…" His eyes shone with utter joy for the entire situation.

"Weasley. Ginny Weasley." I muttered, scribbling accurate notes onto my parchment.

"Hullo, it's nice to meet you Ginny! What is that short for? Virginia? Ginevra? Was that a nod? Yes, then. Ginevra is a nice name but I shall prefer Ginny. Mind if a take a photograph of you. Good, then. That's a nice one Ginny. I'll give it to you when it's printed. I'm glad I was put in Gryffindor, aren't you. Do I talk too much. Mum and Dad say I do. They're Muggles, see, so I want a magical opinion, if that makes sense. Now why do you suppose those Slytherin blokes despise me so. They don't seem to hate all Gryffindor's. Do you s'pose it's 'cause of my camera. I really want to send some pictures to my little brother, Dennis. He looks like me too. He'll be starting next year, shows the same magic as I did…"

The rest of the day crept by. After lunch, I had Charms class, in which I learned _incendo_ - a charm that, coincidentally, Professor Sprout had specified as the best way to defeat the Devil's Snare.

The rest of the week - and then the month - went by routinely. My favourite class was Potions, despite the fact that Professor Snape seemed to hate the Gryffindor's. However, seeing as we had Potions with Hufflepuff, he didn't have a favourite. He just didn't like us.

Transfiguration was easily the most difficult class, just as History of Magic was the most boring.

I still wasn't sure whether I had friends or not. In Herbology every Tuesday, I would sit or stand beside Colin. We talked - or, he talked - and were quite cordial to each other. However, after class, he ran after Harry.

_Dear Tom_

_Today in class we learned how to turn matches into needles. I'm so glad that I could do it. Transfiguration is very hard, although it's not impossible. In Herbology, we learned about Spiky Bushes. Apparently they…_

* * *

_Dear Tom_

_Saw Colin today. He was talking about his brother again. I suppose I'll be forced to meet him next year. I can't believe it's already been two weeks…_

* * *

_Dear Tom_

_Harry looked at me during breakfast this morning. He was talking about Quiddich when he…_

* * *

_Dear Tom_

_I miss Mum. I can't believe it's already October 2__nd…_

* * *

_Dear Tom…_

* * *

_Dear Tom…_

* * *

_Dear Tom…_

* * *

_Dear Tom_

_I THINK MRS. NORRIS SHOULD DIE!_

**A/N: Coincidence? I think not. Aha, I suppose you'll have to wait for chapter six then. Just so you know, part of the next chapter will be a flashback so don't get all confused. Now, I repeat - REVIEW! Finally, Please read my other story as I actually cannot continue to the next chapter of my other story until I have three reviews - Literally! Thanks all.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Oh yes, I own Harry Potter (her voice dripping with sarcasm)**

**A/N: Hey, I'm sorry that it's too short but you'll see why in the end. By the way, I'm really sorry that I haven't updated The Muggle Girl in like a week but I've been busy with this story.**

_Dear Tom,_

_I THINK MRS. NORRIS SHOULD DIE!_

* * *

_**FLASHBACK - THE MORNING BEFORE THE ENTRY:**_

I was walking down the hall after Potions class, thinking about all the homework that I had piled up. It was October 30th, tomorrow being Halloween, but that didn't stop the professors from assigning us reports like there was no tomorrow.

I had to compile a two foot essay on the theory of the bezoars. I planned to right a short history, including how ancient wizards first discovered it, and then a quick summary on where to find it and it's uses.

I had flying next. It was my favourite subject, now that we were really learning how to use a broomstick. I did like Potions a lot at first, but while I was brewing my Forgetfulness Potion, I accidentally added a three grams of Lavender, whilst the recipe only called for one and a seventh . My potion turned a brilliant scarlet when it's intended colour was violet.

As I struggled to fix it, Snape walked towards my table. "Well, well, well…" he sneered, peering into my cauldron, "It seems inability to concoct potions runs in the family. Must be a Weasley trait - like your red hair." He almost seemed…sad as he spoke "red hair" however, after a quick flicker of despair, he seemed angry at me - more so than before and emptied the contents of my cauldron with a wave of his wand.

"No more _red!_" He barked, his nose inches from mine. His cold eyes gleamed with a condescending light. Needless to say, I wont be overly enthusiastic about going back to the Dungeons anytime soon.

I had my nose stuck in my Transfiguration textbook - trying to plan what to write about on my Transfiguration essay. I stepped, and tripped over myself.

My ink and paper's spilled everywhere. Luckily, most of my work got by without too many stains. The floor was a lot worse off then I was. I picked up my things and dashed off, before anyone had a chance to laugh at me.

As I walked away, I tripped again. This time, the thing the I stumbled on was fuzzy and rumoured to be evil. "Mrs. Norris" I breathed. I didn't know why I was so worried - I hadn't done anything wrong.

"Ginny is it? Hi!" I turned to see Erica MacDougal walking towards me. She smiled brightly and waved excessively. I waved back timidly.

She started to converse with me about how mean Professor Snape had been to me today. She seemed to actually be concerned for me and I was joyous that I was finally making a friend. I didn't even notice that Mrs. Norris (the caretaker, Argus Filch's cat) had skulked off.

I was about to get over my bashfulness and pipe in to her conversation when _he _came around the corner.

Argus Filch. If you can find a dirtier man anywhere, I'll be surprised. He had dirty stubble and messy clothes. His hair was very thin and medium length - reaching his shoulders. His nails were grubby and bitten and his teeth were slightly yellow and crooked. He was using said teeth to smile at me in such a way, that Erica backed up three steps.

"Hello. I'll just be taking your friend here Missy. She's a troublemaker of the worst kind. Destroying school property and assaulting your superior. I'm surprised at you Miss Weasley."

Erica looked at me like I was the most vile creature, clearly misunderstanding Filch's words. I didn't have time to explain as said man grabbed my arm and dragged me to his office.

"Hmm, we are in trouble now. Let's see…you not only damaged a polished school floor, which I had so carefully scrubbed only this morning, but you also deliberately stepped on Mrs. Norris. I know Miss Weasley - _Oh how can you prove it sir? You weren't around!_" I recoiled from his terrible impression of me.

"Yes. I have sources. You stepped on my source. Congratulations, you got yourself into trouble with more ease than your brother's ever have. What an _honour_."

I was late for Flying class, I had lost one of my only chances at friendship, and I had landed myself in detention. I knew it was Mrs. Norris' fault.

* * *

_Dear Tom_

_I THINK MRS NORRIS SHOULD DIE! Perhaps these words are dramatic Tom, but they are true. I have extracted into you my memory. You can fully understand what it is that I went to. We will resume this discussion in full tomorrow after class, as I am truly exhausted. By the way, did you know that Filch is a Squib? Ron told me that Harry discovered this during a detention. I wonder were Squibs stand with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? It is harder to find this information as Squibs are much rarer than Muggle-borns. Goodnight, Dearest Tom._

Before I closed the book, I did not see it's pages ruffle, as if in anticipation.

The next day was quiet. I had History of Magic and Charms. We learned about some wizard war of 1630 or 1360 or something. In Charms, we learned how to levitate objects. I was fairly good at this, even if I was the sixth one to actually do it.

I kept my head down as I walked back to the common room after Charms, not wanting another run in such as yesterday. I passed several pairs of feet that I thought I recognised by I didn't dare raise my head, not for a second.

I ran to my bed, hoping to find solace with Tom.

_Oh Tom! I've had not much of a day. Nothing happened. Not like yesterday._

_Yes, Ginny. Do not fret dear one. You are worth more than he, and I think you're much prettier too._

I giggled a little.

_Allow me to show you a memory of mine…_

I watched the book as the pages ruffled, expecting him to show me part of his life. I had grown great friends with Tom and was ready to see something of his. I felt—

**A/N: Thanks. Review.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: In case it's not clear, this chapter is written from Tom's point of view. I know that on my pole, most people wanted it to be mysterious blanks in Ginny's memories but this was more fun for me. I got to write an evil character. I also got to write two charaters. This is my favourite chapter thus far. Enjoy**

It was strange, to have a body again. I suppose that I'd had a form for the last fifty years but a Diary hardly counts. I looked down at my hands. Again, it was even stranger for this body to be female.

I didn't enjoy the sensation of having streams of red hair hanging on my shoulders and neck. I wished for my neat, black hair again. The proper form of Tom Riddle. I contemplated this for the shortest of times, for I only had so long in this state.

As Ginny told me of her many woes and secrets - such as her infatuation with Harry, the teasing her brother's gave her and her mortification and frustration with having to come to school with mainly second-hand things - she poured a part of her soul into me.

Eventually, I had enough of her to do the same. With my soul in her body, I could posses her. Unfortunately, she'd only given me so much, therefore, in return I could only give her so much. This period of possession must be brief. Later - when I would choose to continue with the possession - she would write again and give me more of her. I would do the same and have the opportunity for a longer possession.

Hopefully, I would be charming enough to convince her to continue to write. When she does, I will be compassionate enough to keep her trust and encourage her to keep solace in my old pages. I _will_ open the Chamber of Secrets. I _must._ Failure is not an option. Opening the Chamber requires total possession - which I have gained - but if she withdraws from me, she will reclaim her soul and mind. I was always able to influence the behaviour of others. From the orphans to the Basilisk when I murdered that insolent Mudblood Myrtle.

I started off, hoping to avoid most of Ginny's classmates. It was unbelievably lucky that she didn't have friends - no one would try to converse. The only problem might be that Creevy boy - the annoying thing.

I swore a terrible stream of cusses in my mind when I realised the side affects of a possession - the subject will walk in a dreamlike state because the invading mind will be unused to the feel of these limbs and other such things. I, being Ginny, will also be incapable of speech. That is because the possessor will not be able to reach that specific part of the mind and the owner of the body will be taken over and will be the same as asleep and therefore, unable to communicate.

I slowly walked towards the corridor. I was glad that Ginny had been up at such an hour as the halls were - and even the common room was - empty. I exited the portrait and realised that I might not be able to find my way back. I had been a Slytherin and this common room entrance area was completely alien to me.

I made my way towards the office of the Squib. Ginny hadn't realised that Squibs were just as bad - perhaps worse - than Mudbloods as they should be wizards and witches by all means but fail to create magic. They disgrace the name of even the purest of families. At least Mudbloods have magic.

I was distracted by my thoughts and occupied by the difficulty of continuing at even the slowest of paces that I didn't hear the soft, creeping footsteps that were coming nearer. I was lucky that the ignorant man was talking to himself. _Of all the maniac displays…_ my old hatred for the all too suspicious teacher - now Headmaster - came back in full force when I heard his thoughtful tone.

"Oh dear me…What is this? A simple old fool's ramblings so sure. Last year. Quite a year indeed. The same ominous branch. Could it be true? No, best to ignore it. It's like old Muggle's claiming their bones creak fore weather. Yes, indeed it shall be concluded as so. Though, how could I be experiencing the same sensation that led to my distrust of Tom, before I'd known of what he was?"

I slowly shrank back into the shadows, dearly hoping that Ginny's hair would _not _glow in the dark as it blinded in the sun. I watched the crackpot Headmaster's face turn from worry to utter confusion as he stroked his ridiculous silver beard. His blue eyes shot like lasers ahead of him and I was immensely relived when he closed his eyes and rubbed his wrinkled temples just as he passed my dark crevice.

I didn't shift an inch until I had counted two minutes after his mumbling had faded into the darkness. The frustrating run-in had cost me nearly five minutes of my precious time. I couldn't have very much left. I dearly hoped that by repeatedly possessing Ginny, I would gain the ability to move faster as I got used to her structure.

I heard the silly little girl's annoyingly loud second-hand shoes stomping below me, despite my slow, creeping pace. _Damn her poorhouse family_ I thought bitterly, cussing and practically radiating hatred for the unknown family. It was obvious that they were not a very…old name, or I would recognise it from Hogwarts fifty years before.

Eventually, though it seemed an eternity, I reached the hallway home to the bathroom known as Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom. I had already passed the Squib's office - merely to guarantee it's position. I did not have time for trivial mistakes. I had realised that she - Myrtle - had remained in that bathroom since the day I killed her. Ginny had complained of her screams. I was quite shocked. I had known that she had chosen to be a ghost but I hadn't expected her to remain in that bathroom forever. Not with it's…history.

I remember it with a sickening vividness - perhaps because I was "created" that day. I being the first Horcrux.

I knew her to be a Mudblood from around school. The status of people was easy to check on. I was a closed case however, simply stating that I was from an orphanage but I was in Slytherin. They assumed the best.

That day in class some petty girl was teasing the insolent bit of filth. After Charms - for that waste of time was the setting of the teasing - she, being Myrtle, made a dash for the bathroom. She wailed and wailed. I was ready.

I had already set the basilisk to petrify perhaps two or three of _her_ kind. I was beginning to grow tired of these games of seeing my monster's glare indirectly. I wanted, I _needed_ this excursion to succeed. It did.

I entered the bathroom that she had chosen to be the site of her foolish blubbering. I could have laughed - she had made this so easy for me. It was the bathroom of Slytherin himself. The entrance to the Chamber was not ten feet from the third stall - her stall.

A low series of hisses escaped my mouth. "_My monster - dear basilisk of the depths. I call upon you."_

"What _are _you doing?" The insolent Mudblood screeched from her stall, her voice dripping with anger and the residue of despair. "This is the girls loo and you are clearly not a girl, as your voice indicates!"

She peered out of the stall door. She didn't see me. She would never know exactly what hit her. All she would ever understand was that the last thing she ever saw was a big, round pair of yellow eyes.

I entered the white furnished bathroom, internally sneering at the site of my first and only success. Unfortunately, after that attack Dumbledore began to suspect me even further. The easiest thing to do was to frame someone. It was perfect - as if something in the universe was helping me.

That oaf of a child, Hagrid, had found an Acromantula egg. I suppose he must have traded something for it in the Leaky Cauldron. Either way, he was making this simple. I had to set it up to look like he'd done it because they were sending Ministry people to watch over the school. I couldn't be caught. It would ruin everything.

I simply hauled myself - and my Prefect badge, of course - down to his spider's hiding place and confronted him. I had had several pieces of evidence proving he'd kept it down there, so his denial would not be a problem.

It was odd, though not troublesome, when he had denied it, though not in the way I was expecting. I thought he'd say that he didn't do it. Or that he'd been framed. Or that the monster wasn't his - he's simply found it down there when I'd found him.

"It wasn't him! He wouln'! He never!" Instead of defending his innocence, he defended his pet's. It was so strange. It was like he cared about the stupid spider more than he cared about being expelled and having his wand snapped.

In my mind, I hissed the words to call upon my monster. _The _monster. The Basilisk. I was utterly shocked when the words came out of the mouth of the girl. It was apparent that you could speak Parsletongue in a possessed form. Maybe it's because both are semi-related to Dark Magic cores. Maybe not. Perhaps it was a mere coincidence.

"_My monster. You have slept. Come! Arise, for I have returned. I - the Heir of Slytherin - command you to kill the Squib. The one who's office is on the ground floor. Go now! Kill. Rip! MURDER!"_

I heard the answer before I felt the consciousness of my monster. It told me it would rip. It told me it would tear. It told me it would murder. I quickly directed the girl towards Hagrid's hut and had her kill several chickens. I needed the blood.

I walked to the office of the Squib and was let down to see that not only had my monster failed to actually kill, but he'd missed the target. There was nothing to be done - Mrs. Norris was a perfect warning.

On the wall above the cat I had the controlled girl write in the blood: **THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMY'S OF THE HEIR BEWARE.**

I let out a cruel laugh, surprised when it escaped the lip's of the girl. My body. My connection to Hogwarts.

I had returned. And this time, Albus Dumbledore would not suspect me, as I was a naïve eleven-year old girl. I would succeed. I would kill more than once.

The Heir had returned.

**A/N: Did you like it? Please review. Tell me if you liked the character. I will also be answering any questions you may have in my A/N's so if you've got one, put it in you're review. Also, please help me to "create" Tom's charater's. Suggestions are welcome and will be taken into account!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks for your feedback but my reviewers on average keeps dropping. Please review. (About Tom's character, someone brought to my attention that Tom Riddle might be _too_ evil for his sixteen year-old self. About this, please remember that he is a Horcrux and as Voldemort becomes more evil, his soul will as well. The Horcrux is more Voldemort than Tom).**

For the first fifty seconds, I couldn't figure out where I was. Well, I was alone. I was lost. That much was apparent. That much was obvious.

I couldn't…remember. I tried. The last thing in my mind was Tom asking to show me a memory. I could faintly recall an odd tugging feeling. It came from deep inside my foot, then my gut and then finally, my head. It was so brief, so subtle, that it was a wonder that I remembered the sensation at all. But whatever had happened to me, it had taken me far away from the Gryffindor common room. And whatever had happened must have taken energy, as I struggled to raise my head.

It was then that I knew where I was. I was in the fourth floor corridor. I didn't know the time and didn't have the will to get up. Not just yet. A splitting headache ran through my strangely slow brain.

I supposed that I had sleep walked. Yes, that would be the simplest, the most obvious answer. Unfortunately, I was far from confirming my hope, my suspicion - as I must call it, for it was indeed suspicious.

I slowly got back to my feet and realised that, without knowing what time it was, if I went too long without eating at this point, I'd likely collapse again, though in a different hallway. That settled the practically one-sided argument going on between the fiery strands that made up my hair. Oh, to be a Weasley. It was a strange position in life indeed. I thought about the truth in that statement.

First of all, the overall appearance that ran through our blood - the red hair, the pasty completion, the freckles, the uncanny knack for being tall - made us no less than a lighthouse, a beacon. But instead of a light, it flashed _we are Weasley's. We cannot deny this truth._

That wouldn't have been a problem. In fact, it could have, would have been the same as the silver hair of the Malfoy's, if it were not for our dignified and courageous fatal flaw. Our loyalties.

This made us an easy target for the Slytherin gangs. The Malfoy's especially, for they were particularly fond of _him. _The one we tend to oppose at all costs. The one Harry vanquished. Or so we thought. However, that was irrelevant. They were always poised to strike, not unlike a snake. Kind of ironic, isn't it. But they hated our blood. There was no denying that. Draco had made that much apparent that terrible day in Diagon Alley. I couldn't overcome a family reputation.

On top of that, my parents were like gerbils. The Burrow was their breeding ground. First, they had Bill and Charlie. They're not twins, mind you, but they might as well be. Bill's not many years his senior. Then along came Percy and they had a normal, family of five. But no, here come twins. Fred and George were two terrors waiting to happen. Even as toddlers, they'd thought it funny to make the lives of the other members of their family miserable.

I guess they were still dissatisfied, even with a round, bulging family of seven. So, Ron came to the earth. But, they tried again and came up victorious. They'd had me - the first Weasley girl in too many generations to count.

My Dad worked, a good job too. But Mum didn't. I don't know why, but I assume that it had something to do with the size of the Burrow and the seven kids that they had had over the years. But that left the state of our financial affairs something to be desired. Again, this was like a bulls-eye inside a bull's-eye. The second reason to torment us.

I remembered the brief, condescending speech that Lucius Malfoy had given, that terrible day in Diagon Alley. "_Take your worthless book girl. It's the best your father can give you." _It only stung because he'd been right.

And so, every day, the Slytherin's bashed my clothes, my books, my hair. I knew that they did it to Ron too, and that Malfoy was a lot crueller than the thugs I was facing, but I was weak and small. When they teased me I felt lost. I couldn't even look at Harry, Ron wouldn't care, Fred and George would tease me and Percy would tell me to report it. But I knew that wouldn't solve anything. It'd only make things worth. It might even add some threats to the mix.

That sure made school life bad. Mum would fuss so talking to her was out too. That was why I needed Tom. He was nice, the friend I'd never had. He was mine so he couldn't tell anyone my secrets and he was utterly kind. I knew that he would never speak the awful words that echoed through my mind everyday. _Blood-traitor. Youngest. Meaningless. Invisible._

That was me.

Invisible.

It felt odd, to be thinking like that. I had had plenty of time to contemplate this before, so why did I ponder these thoughts at that moment? I would never quite understand that when something's been in you, it never fully leaves. My mind would always be partly historic, thinking like they did in 1930's.

I glanced down at my robes and was surprised to find them messy. There were dark, red patches on my robes and I was convinced that it was blood. How it got there, I don't know. As I couldn't remember anything from last night, I didn't know if I had slipped and took a tumble here and it was my own blood. I didn't have any cuts though, so that was not a possibility.

It was even stranger to find that there were feathers on my robes. They were also in my hair. I knew them to be a variety of hen and rooster feathers, as we kept many at the Burrow. Again, I had no way of knowing how they had gotten there. I made a stop in a nearby bathroom to clean up and put it out of my mind. It wouldn't do to worry. Especially if I had no way of getting any answers.

I arrived in the Great Hall just as breakfast appeared on the table. I saw Erica sitting at the Gryffindor table, reading a charms textbook and eating toast. As I sat down, she looked up and smiled at me before going back to reading about spells.

"Hi Ginny. Where were you last night? You didn't go to bed and when I woke up, you weren't there."

I knew that if I told her the truth, she'd think I needed to go to St. Mungo's, so I did what I thought was best. I lied. "I was in the common room for some extra studying till real late. Then, I woke up at like, six in the morning so I went for a walk."

She nodded and smiled. I shovelled a stack of eggs onto my plate just as her twin, Eric, arrived for the morning meal. He smiled and said "hi" to me before starting up a conversation with his sister. She turned to him, and like that, I didn't exist.

After sitting in silence - or, at least I did - for a good twenty minutes, I declared myself full and went for a brief walk around the Quiddich Pitch.

I came down here sometimes, just before classes. I like it in the early morning. I loved that there was no one around and that I could still smell the dew that clung to the grass. I could almost taste the sweet aroma.

I imagined myself flying on a broom - any broom really - that was better than the Comets that we had at home. I mean, the Comets that my brothers had at home. My Mum didn't let me fly brooms. I was her little girl and it was much too dangerous. So, I gotten into the habit of breaking into the Quiddich shed at home. I would just go outside and fly. It gave me a good advantage when it came to the flying lessons at Hogwarts.

Now, standing here on the Pitch, my greatest wish came back to me. I could so vividly fantasize about flying on a Nimbus. I would be wearing the proud maroon and gold uniforms. The bright red quaffle would be in my hands. I could taste the fear on the Slytherin team's face.

Lee Jordan would make up some fun commentary as I tossed the ball through the hoop. But that was just a dream. I couldn't make the team. There were so many better than me and Mum would hardly even let me try out for the team.

I snapped out of my imagination when I heard the large Clock Tower ringing to signal that it was eight o'clock. I rushed to my dormitory to pick up my books. I had History of Magic first. I suppose that it wasn't the most important class, as it was irrelevant to most jobs, but I liked to be punctual.

I ran in just in time, with my quill poised over my parchment. We were learning about one of the more…interesting topics. The First Wizard War.

_Sometime in the 1970's, a wizard rose to power. He gained many followers during his rampage. Terror grew in hearts of many as he ruthlessly murdered several Muggle families. In 1982, he was destroyed by…_

I walked into the cold Dungeons that hosted the Potions class. I shivered and sat down next to Colin. His usual smile was gone. It always left his chubby face during this class. Snape didn't like Colin. Well, Snape didn't like pep, or happiness so Colin was immediately one of the Professor's least favourites.

I was in that club. I knew that Ron was in it and that Harry had it worse than me. I suspected that one of the main reasons that he hated me was because of Ron's association with Harry. Or it was because he hated Gryffindor House. It could be either.

We were learning about the theory behind the Shrinking Solution. I had heard from Ron that it was a second year assignment. It wasn't immensely difficult. No, that wasn't the problem. It just bothered me that a teacher would act this way. That a teacher _could_ act this way.

I flipped open my textbook to copy some notes on rat spleen - as that was one of the more important ingredients and I thought it good to be over prepared. That particular page of the textbook - which was second-hand, as all of my textbooks are - had a fairly large coffee stain on it. It was faded enough that it didn't cover anything but it was fairly noticeable. That fact was proved to be right when the Potions Master walked over to my table.

"Colin!" He barked, his eyes cold, "You need to write neater. If I can't read it, you probably wont be able to either!" He turned to me and I braced myself for whatever was to come.

"Weasley! How could you demolish a Potions book like that. Not only is that offensive to me, but it is a terrible show of respect for Hogwarts itself!"

"B-b-but sir, It's s-second-hand. It came like th-" I cringed

"How dare you contradict me. Girl, you have just cost your precious Gryffindor House twenty points. Five for contradicting an authority figure, ten for you blatant disrespect for your belongings and school things and five more for your sloppy penmanship!"

I could see all of my classmates glaring at the unfair and seriously biased Professor with a glimmer of hatred in their eyes. It was the same way that Snape looked at Harry and Harry looked at Snape.

I walked out of the classroom with ghosts of tears in my eyes. I was glad that it was my last class for the day and I ran up to Gryffindor Tower as fast as I could possible go. It was important. I grabbed Tom as soon as I got in and took out my quill.

_Tom, I've simply had the worst day. I woke up this morning in the fourth floor corridor. I don't know how I got there. I had some red fluid - quite possibly blood - and rooster feathers on my robes. I can't remember anything from last night. I don't think that I went to bed. The last thing I remember is you showing me a memory. I can't even remember that! But that wasn't the worst of my day. Professor Snape - the Potions Professor - singled me out again today. He was telling Colin off for his horrid penmanship when he saw a stain in my textbook. You know that all of my textbooks are second-hand. I've told you this many a time. When you own second hand things, it is almost inevitable that they will have stains or other marks from previous owners. I know this well and I think you understand. He started to yell at me for vandalising a textbook. He said something about it being offensive to him and to the school. When I tried to explain that the book was second-hand and that the stain had been there when my father bought it, he simply accused me of contradicting a teacher. He took off twenty points for that and even criticized my writing. Oh Tom, I feel so terrible about myself…_

_Ginny, you mustn't feel too bad. He is clearly bitter and I'm sure your classmates are not angry at you for losing the points. As for your "blood and feather" situation, perhaps you took a tumble. I think it likely that someone saw you asleep and thought it funny to muss up your clothes and hair. Now, go to sleep. You must be tired from your mysterious night. Please, for me - don't try to figure it out. You would do better to focus on class. And do continue to write to me. A lot, if you will. I do enjoy your conversation and it's the closest thing I have to a human relation._

I yawned. I forgot the whole dilemma.

I didn't think about it for a long time.

I slept.

**A/N: If any of you were wondering why Ginny doesn't know about Mrs. Norris yet, please keep in mind that she has no friends. Who would tell her? And yes, Eric was telling Erica about teh petrification but they didn't finish their convorsation until after Ginny had left so she has no way of knowing yet. Be patient.**

**(Again, if you have any questions they will be adressed and quite possibly answered where this section of the note is, so please ask away).**


End file.
